


Boundaries

by the_authors_exploits



Series: Feeds on the ego, Swallows the pain [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Jason learns about consent (mostly familial consent), Possibly Triggering, big bro dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 02:52:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21206213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_authors_exploits/pseuds/the_authors_exploits
Summary: Dick notices Jason seems incapable of telling people no; he steps in and tries to help





	Boundaries

**Author's Note:**

> This is partially inspired by when I realized consent wasn't just between partners, but that I could tell my friends to not touch me on a bad day or to please not tap me on the back to get my attention. Also inspired by talks with [datesanddamian](https://datesanddamian.tumblr.com/)

Dick can’t decide if Jason is a kitten; the kid is all feisty fight with just the right amount of immaturity that Dick is pretty sure he’s a kitten, but sometimes he does something just brutal enough that Dick amends household kitten for puma kit. It’s a fair compromise… There’s only one issue with it.

That would make Dick the mama cat; and that’s a far stranger image than kitten Jason. Except Donna laughs rackously when he addresses it with her, to the point that she starts choking on air, tears leaking out of the corner of her eye for all the humor she finds in it.

“What?” he asks incredulously. “I’m not a mother cat!”

“Of course you are,” Kori suddenly pipes up from the doorway; she saunters in with a cup of tea in her hand and a plate of cookies in the other. “You mother Rachel and Gar daily.”

Donna collapses, shrieking once more with laughter, legs kicking; Kori wisely sets the cookies down away from her flailing limbs. Dick chews at his nails.

“Am I?”

“Are you what?” Apparently Donna’s pealing laughter has drawn the kids in, because Jason is flanked by Rachel and Gar; his eyes widen at the plate on the coffee table. “Ohh, cookies!” Or the smell brought them.

Kori passes out the treats, one hanging from her mouth, and she muffles out, “Dick’s a mudder cad.”

“A mother cat?” Jason perches on the arm rest; Alfred would lose his mind. “What does that even mean?”

Gar is alternating bites out of two different cookies, despite there being no difference between them. “Dick had a kid with someone?”

“Betcha he had a ton of kids with a ton of people!” Jason nudges the other boy and Rachel rolls her eyes; she’s at least using a napkin to catch the crumbs. Alfred would love her.

Dick shoves his face into a pillow; at least Donna’s laughter has reduced down to hiccuping gasps. “I don’t have kids!”

“Oh, does your dic--”

“Jason!” Bless Kori; if anything, she’s the mama cat. He thinks about saying it, realizes he might live longer if he keeps it to himself. “Language!”

Jason waves his hand. “It’s literally his name!”

“Not in that context, it’s not.”

Gar tries to grab another cookie and Dick looks up just in time to bat his hand away. “You’re gonna ruin your appetite.”

A tip of her tea. “Mother cat.”

“Why is he a cat, though?” Rachel carefully folds her napkin. “I thought the saying was mother hen.”

“I think,” Donna coughs as she sits upright. “I think you three resemble a litter of kittens better than a clutch of chicks.”

Everyone sits still, like some sort of suspenseful classical painting right before the chaos erupts; and chaos does erupt. Gar bursts out, confused and horrified, sputtering; Rachel has decided it’s Jason’s fault that they’re being called cats, and Jason has puffed out his chest incredulously.

“It’s not my fault!”

“Everything is your fault!” She means it half joking, so Dick lets it slide… For now, because Jason’s been doing better and everyone did apologize for blaming Jason--and the two seem to just be teasing each other, so Dick bites down on his tongue.

“Gar’s the one who turns into a giant cat, blame him!”

Gar leans forwards, voice high pitched. “I’m a kitten?”

Kori pats at his head. “If you want to be.”

Dick presses his face deeper into the pillow.

For all of Jason’s grumpy nature, he’s very lenient when people pay him attention. That is to say, he lets anyone touch him. Granted he needs to be in a very good mood to not expertly dodge an arm thrown over his shoulder, but it’s very common for Jason to let people into his personal circle. For some reason, that doesn’t settle well with Dick.

He’s not sure if that’s because of some obsessive nature in his personality or because of what he was privy to in Jason’s past; the thought of strange hands harming Jason is something that boils his blood, the deep bruises and scars he still carries… Dick knows it’s a logical need to keep Jason safe from the past horrors he went through, but he still has that instinct when Hank slips an arm over the kid’s shoulder after a good fight on the streets.

Jason holds himself tensely but the contact makes him tense further; he doesn’t duck away, however, shooting Hank a shiteatting grin. But he doesn’t relax, doesn’t show any inclination that he’s going to shake off the affection, and something sours in Dick’s stomach. A foggy notion that, despite his discomfort, Jason won’t voice it.

He stiffens, marches over, and tosses Hank’s arm off in the midst of his compliment. At first Hank reacts like any other well-trained fighter; he turns with his fists raised, Jason’s shoulders tensing up further than they were before and Dick feels a pang of guilt for causing that spike of anxiety.

Hank relaxes though at the sight of his teammate, if brows furrowed in confusion and frustration. “What was that for, Nightwing?”

Dick bites his cheek, nudges at Jason’s shoulder to get him moving again, and mutters “Nothing” towards Hank. He’s grateful Jason accepts his direction because then he can get the little birdy away from reaching hands; he knows, knows deep down in his soul, that Hank would never cross that line.

No one on the team would ever hurt Jason; he’s not ever in danger in the tower, but still Dick keeps a close eye on him and his stomach flips when people start acting...lenient with the kid.

When he spars with Gar, Dick observes; he’s both keeping an eye out for their form, giving little comments here and there, but he’s also watching Jason’s body language. Waiting for the way his neck muscle may stretch out over his jugular, the way his shoulders tense and reach for his ears, head ducking down, eyes darting for exits and dangers all at once.

Gar tugs the other boy into a headlock, Jason jabs his elbow into the other’s ribs; Gar grunts and between blinks Dick thinks he catches a glimpse of his bones morphing into...something, but it’s there and gone so Dick can’t be sure he even saw anything. But still, he takes a step forward to be close just in case.

The boys roll and tumble, Jason’s face turning red as he strains against Gar’s tight hold; Jason tries to fit his arm between Gar’s and his throat, arches his back to find leverage, and his form is good, his tactics too. Dick knows he could get out of the hold, yet his throat is tightening up and his hands are sweating.

“Alright, alright!” He steps onto the mats and tugs at Gar’s arm, the other hand working Jason free and far from the other kid. He rolls Jason twice until he’s satisfied there’s enough space between then. “That’s enough for today.”

Gar is frowning. “Did I shift? I think I shifted at one point; is Jason okay?”

“I’m fine!” Jason jumps to his feet and shoves at Dick; he’s confused and he takes it out on Dick. “We were fine, I had it under control! Why’d you stop us?”

He...has no real answer to that. “I was getting tired; let’s go see if Kori is making something for dinner.” He knows that moment has nothing to do with Jason’s behavior--he was calm, steady, comfortable--and he’s ashamed of that. He needs to be more careful, tuck his own wants away so he doesn’t overstep again.

Jason gives Gar a hand up; he juts a thumb at Dick. “He wasn’t even the one sparring!”

Gar shrugs. “But dinner sounds like a good idea.”

It’s a good thing Jason can always be persuaded by food--there’s a whole other issue for Dick to worry about--but dinner time is crowded and Dick is exhausted by the time he’s scooping up the dirty dishes. It’s not just from keeping track of Jason’s expressive limbs, but also keeping Gar from stuffing himself to the point of explosion and stopping Rachel from flinging a spoonful of mashed potatoes across the table to Jason.

Amidst the chaos, though, Dick takes note of the times Jason scootches his chair closer; at first, Dick moves his over every time Jason does. But eventually, between balancing the kids and making sure nothing gets knocked over, Dick stops moving away and Jason ends up pressed up next to him. To be comfortable, Dick sets an arm over the back of Jason’s chair.

Thinking back on it, arms deep in soapy water, he realizes Jason initiated that contact; there was no tenseness to his muscles, no tells to his discomfort, and Dick starts paying more attention. When others touch him, when he initiates the contact, and who he does it with.

He and Gar are friendly with each other; fist bumps are exchanged with ease, sparring matches are frequent and end in mutual respect. Both initiate it and both accept the touches. Jason shows no signs of stress, so Dick puts the shapeshifter on the list of people allowed to touch Jason.

Rachel is a more unstable subject; one day they get along well and the next they’re a volcano waiting for a catalyst. Dick knows on those days to step in, to keep them separate and distracted; at meal times, the ones where everyone is available to attend, Dick sits them as far from each other as possible and on the same side so they can’t see each other. It keeps them from instigating each other and Dick can enjoy his dinner in peace. Raven goes on a list all of her own, which isn’t a bad thing.

Everyone else falls in varying degrees on the no-list, mostly because Jason responds in varying degrees of stress and also because Dick just doesn’t feel comfortable putting anyone else on the yes list. Gar is a sure yes; Kori could be a yes, but even she brings some distress to the kid. Even when he leans into a hair ruffle or some other sweet touch, his shoulders are pulled tight as if to keep him from becoming too comfortable with her presence. Dick, for the most part, lets her touch but is always quick with an excuse to distract her or Jason.

Hank and Dawn oddly enough cause even more distress to him, so Dick ducks between them when they reach out for Jason; he smacks Hank’s hand away on a mission, sending him a warning look behind Jason’s back. In the living room, Dick shifts Rachel so he can reach Dawn; he motions for her to move closer to him and Rachel, and away from Jason. She does with a teaspoon of trepidation. He’s got them handled.

Donna is sweet, could almost be a yes, but Jason’s reaction to her isn’t as clear as it is with Kori; he succeeds in keeping himself from showing any inclination to her attentions, almost like he tolerates it, and he and Donna develop a teasing repertoire. She reaches to pat him on the back and he dodges, spitting a grin in her direction as Dick saunters over, as if he has no interest in what’s going on.

Jason shoots finger guns at her. “Almost had me that time!”

She returns with a solitary finger, not quite wagging it at him. “I’ll get you one day,” she warns and Jason ducks behind Dick’s shoulder with a laugh. With the kid running away elsewhere she joins Dick in overseeing the cleanup of this week’s big baddy fight. “I know what you’re doing.”

He shrugs. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh.” She scuffs her shoe against the ground. “Sure you don’t, big guy.” She pats his bicep, grips it tight. “The question is: is it mama cat or big brother instinct?”

For a minute, Dick compares the two; finally he shrugs. “I think they might be one in the same.”

Donna nods and there’s a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Me too.”

For a while, things go smoothly; Dick works out a routine and Jason doesn’t have to be touched when he doesn’t want to. Dick is watchful, and he’s there to help whenever needed. Except, when he’s not.

It’s a stupid idea to bring Jason along, but Dick needs some information from one of his Bludhaven CI’s and he doesn’t trust to leave Jason alone at his apartment.  _ There are knives and a stab-able couch, _ Jason had brought up, one of his mischievous grins on his face, and Dick told him to get in the car; he liked his couch.

A stupid idea upon a stupid idea, because of course the best meeting place is a bar in the lower slums of Bludhaven; Dick points at a seat by the door of the bar and Jason hops up onto the stool.

“Stay there; don’t drink. I don’t care how cool your fake ID looks, you don’t have to prove to me that it works I believe you.” Dick goes to the booth where Sam is slouched down over a glass of bourbon; the man hands over a paper with some information, they converse quietly. Things are going smoothly until Dick glances over his shoulder to check on Jason.

Jason is where Dick left him; but so is a stranger, a man in a suit, clearly out of place in the slums, leaning close to the teenager. He’s wearing a crooked grin, shakey on his feet, and suddenly he leans in closer and his hand settles on Jason’s thigh. Dick sees red, even without noticing the way Jason’s breathing has shallowed out, the ducking of his head, the shoulders hiking up and the way he cringes away from the stranger.

Dick is across the bar in record time; he grabs hold of the sleazy man’s jacket, pulls his arm back, and his fist connects with the man’s face. He falls over easily, and Dick points over at Sam.

“You stay there!” He grabs Jason’s arm, the kid shocked still staring down at the stranger, and hurries him out of the bar, phone in hand as he types out a quick message to his squad; they’ll find dirt on that scumbag, lock him up for assault. Dick will make sure of it; he puts his phone away and scrubs at his face. “Dammit, Jay, you can say no!”

Jason blinks, goes from confusion to more confusion. “W-what?”

“You can tell people no!” A car whizzes past; Dick realizes, as the light passes over Jason’s face, that he really doesn’t understand. “Jason, if you don’t like what someone is doing or what they said, you can say so; you can tell them to fuck off! I know you can do that.”

“I don’t get it.”

A groan of frustration; Dick pulls at his hair and turns in a circle. He wants to go back inside and beat the crap out of that drunk creep; he turns back to Jason. A deep breath, to center himself and calm down; he doesn’t want Jason to think he’s mad at him. He speaks slow, carefully. “If you don’t like Hank leaning against you in line at the movies, tell him to back off; if you don’t want Dawn giving you a hug good morning then tell her! You’re allowed to say no.”

Jason scratches at his nose; he blinks up at Dick. “But that’s just normal; tolerating things you don’t like, right? It’s like eating vegetables at dinner ‘cause Alfred told you to.”

Dick has to grit his teeth to keep from crying. “No, Jay, those are two different things; completely different! Yeah, sure, you can tolerate the vegetables because they’re good for you, and you can tolerate other things you don’t like  _ if you want to _ . Did you want Rachel trying to share your chair the other day?”

She had been teasing, but Jason had rolled from the chair and bent a page in his  _ Crime and Punishment  _ book; he had been really upset about that, and Dick thinks it’s a fair example for when Jason should say what he wants.

But Jason is a stubborn thing and shrugs. “I mean, she didn’t do anything wrong; she wanted the seat and I gave it to her.”

“She got into your personal space, and I know that bothered you; you tensed up, you brought your shoulders up and close to yourself. Like you wanted to crawl into yourself, like you did in there with that guy!”

He rolls his shoulders then, consciously letting each muscle go loose one by one, until he’s standing relaxed in front of Dick; but there’s still an undercurrent of tension running through him that only a trained eye could spot. And Dick sees it clear as day. “That was...different…”

“Different in what way?” He prods, lightly.

The kid flails his hands. “I-I don’t know!”

“Jason, did you want to tell him to back off?”

“Fuck yeah!” It bursts out and for a moment even Jason seems shocked by the proclamation; he shifts his jaw. “Yeah, I wanted to tell him to back the hell up and cut his skeevy hands off with a rusted knife!”

“And you should have; you have every right to dictate who enters your personal space and what happens when they do.” God, he’s not equipped to do the birds and the bees talk. “Not just between you and your girlfriend.... Or boyfriend! But between you and strangers, you and friends. If you don’t like being grabbed by the wrist, say so; if you don’t like being touched in general, say so. It doesn’t matter what or when… You’re allowed to have boundaries.”

They stand in silence; Jason seems to mull over what Dick has said, and finally he lifts his gaze up. Hesitant, unsure, something so unlike Jason that Dick feels honored to be shown this side of him. “And if I want to...be touched? Hugged and shit…”

“Then you can say so too.”

A half step forward; he’s gone from the stiff fear to a pale sickness, color drained from his face and his arms curled around himself. “I don’t want to feel his hands anymore.”

It takes every ounce of self control to hold himself still; he’s not going to ruin this by acting out on impulses. “Communication, Jay; I’m not going to do something without your express consent.”

That earns a roll of his eyes, huffy and exasperated. “Fuck’s sake, Dick, I want a hug! I want to feel...grounded or some shit!”

So Dick does; he hugs him, wraps his little brother tight in his arms, tucking his head against his collarbone, where Dick can keep him safe. “So what did we learn tonight?”

Jason snuffs out a laugh. “Consent?”

Dick ruffles his hair. “Yeah; consent.”

It takes a while; Dick reminds him on occasion, when he can see Jason tolerating something to not be rude. He calls to him and raises a brow, says  _ remember what we talked about _ ; Jason will roll his eyes, shove at Hank, tell him to go bother someone else.

It’s progress.


End file.
